


Cling to What We've Got

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, At least Prompto has some sense for the both of them, But Gladio is too blind to see the truth sometimes, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 14:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19252861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: The world's gone dark, and with the light so, too, is hope failing. But when a hunting mission puts Prompto in harm's way, Gladio understands just how much he still has left to lose.





	1. Tough Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Why, hello there. Pardon me while I drag my sorry ass back into the world of the living just in time for Promptio Week 2019. After not writing for, like, a month (maybe two?) this was the kick in the butt I needed to get back in the swing of things. I can't promise I'll get through the whole ship week in one piece, but dammit I'm going to try! 
> 
> I just...really freaking love Promptio, okay? 
> 
> Anyway, this is for Day 1, prompt "Tough choices." Hope the connection is clear enough. And not just the title. Um. Yeah.  
> Oh, and this is kind of short, but Chapter 2 will (should) go up tomorrow for the next prompt, "Trust." Maybe. Fingers crossed. 
> 
> Heads up for angsty Gladio, WOOO~~~!

“I don’t like it.”

At the front of their makeshift briefing room, Cor Leonis stops talking. His mouth snaps shut, and he turns to let his steel grey eyes sweep over the faces around him. Not cold, exactly, but calculating. A saner man might fear the dangerous glint in those eyes, but Gladio considers himself far from sane. In this world, where both light and hope are fading fast, he’s learned that survival depends on a certain degree of madness.

“You heard me,  _sir._ I don’t like it,” he repeats into the silence that’s fallen over the room. As expected, Cor zeros in on him, narrows his eyes to slits.

“Amicitia. I’m surprised you finally have something to say.”

“Damn right I do. Who in the hell came up with this plan? It’s shit, big stinkin’ behemoth shit.” He stands up now, crosses his arms over his chest and then quickly unfolds them again to point accusingly at the map on the wall. “You’ve got a dozen hunters ready to follow you on this mission, but you’re gonna send Prompto in all alone? _Prompto?_ That’s suicide, do you realize that?”

“It was Prompto’s idea,” the Marshal replies. His voice is calm, steady, which Gladio knows is never a good sign. “He suggested sending in a scout, someone to assess the threat before luring the daemons out into the open air. No one is faster on his feet, or quieter in the dark.”

Several seats down from him, a tuft of blond hair and red, freckled cheeks sink lower in their seat. Whether from the accusation or the praise, however, Gladio can’t quite guess.

“Plus,” Cor continues, his voice dropping an octave. “He volunteered.”

There’s more Gladio wants to say. There always is, but when he looks from Prompto’s face, with those blue eyes gazing down into empty air, to the Marshal’s stern one, he finds the words drying to ash on his tongue. _Prompto’s plan? Volunteered?_ He’ll be going into that nest as bait, risking his life - and for what? To kill a few daemon when they all know full fucking well that more will just spawn to take their place?

No, Gladio doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit. As he lowers himself back into his chair, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pulled into a tight line, his gaze is fixed on only one thing: bright yellow hair the color of a forgotten sun.

* * *

“Wait. Stop, Gladio.”

The hand that tugs at his sleeve is insistent this time. Almost as insistent as the tone in Prompto’s voice, and together they bring Gladio to a halt in the empty corridor. The other hunters have all gone ahead - Marshal's orders to start preparations for dispatch - leaving the two of them alone in tense silence.

Prompto's eyes are burning into the back of his skull by the time Gladio finally turns to face him. "Uh," he begins eloquently. "Look, about back there…."

"I'm not weak."

"I -- what?"

"I know what you think, Gladio," Prompto says, and there's no mistaking the hurt in his voice. "You think it's a stupid plan, that I'll screw things up. You think if I go in alone, I won't be able to handle it."

_Wait, no, I…._

Gladio shakes his head. "I never said that, Prom."

"But you're thinking it. Everyone is. Do you know how hard it was convincing the Marshal to let me go?"

"No one thinks you're weak, okay? I'm just worried that--"

Freckled cheeks darken as if Prompto’s been waiting for that exact line. “Worried that I’ll get hurt. Get _killed_ , right? Because I can’t hack it. Well, just so you know, I’ve come a long way since Noc--” He falters, sucks in a sharp breath. “Since...Altissia. I’m not a dumb kid anymore, and I _won’t_ mess this up.”

It’s wrong. _Prompto’s_ wrong, but how can Gladio tell him the truth? This isn’t about weakness, or not being enough. It’s not even about the mission, Gladio knows it’s all futile anyway. No. Looking into Prom’s eyes, those sad, haunted blues that reflect the desperation that tugs at his own heart, he knows this is far more complicated than that.

He knows it’s downright selfish.

“Prompto, what if I….” _What? Ask him to stay? With me, here in this shitty camp, waiting for the end of the world? Fuck that._ Gladio clenches his fist at his side before trying again. “You...you’re all I’ve got left. Iris, Iggy, everyone; they’re all half a continent away. Hell, might as well be the other side of the planet at this rate, and now you’re talking like you don’t know how much you mean to me. To _us_ ,” he corrects quickly, catching the startled look on Prompto’s face. “You’re not weak, Prom, but you’re...well, you’re pretty damn important. Too important to throw your life away on a chance.”

After all this time, after all the adventures and battles and nights spent huddled around campfires, Gladio thinks he’s seen every reaction in the book. He’s half expecting Prompto to argue, to tell him he’s wrong or that it’s none of his business. He’s prepared for a dry laugh and that self-deprecating smile Prom does whenever he gets too close to the dark. The one thing Gladio _doesn’t_ expect is the warm hand that suddenly closes over his own.

“Do you trust me?” Prompto asks him.

Gladio stares, not understanding.

“Do you trust me?” he repeats, more urgently this time, and Gladio responds with a slow nod of his head. “Good. Then trust me to come back. Believe in me. Please, Gladio.”

There’s more, _so much more_ he wants to say - there always is. Those eyes, the touch of their hands, the fears and desires that still hang unspoken between them after all the opportunities he never took. Maybe, Gladio hopes, Prompto can sense it, too. Or maybe it’s too late, and the world is too far gone for anything but broken hearts and tough choices.

With a sigh, Gladio swallows back the words he’s too afraid to say, and settles on simpler ones instead.

“Yeah, Prom. I trust you.”


	2. Trust Pays Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission depends on Prompto's plan going off without a hitch, but Gladio's got a sinking feeling things are not quite as they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, so far this week I'm 2 for 2! This chapter fills the Promptio Week Day 2 prompt "Trust" - hopefully for obvious reasons. 
> 
> I also happen to be posting this at 2 in the morning, so uhhh, sorry for typos ^^;;

Something isn’t right. They’ve been up on this ridge for nearly two hours now, huddled in the blanketing darkness and staring impatiently into the maw of the daemons' nest. It's difficult to make out where the endless night ends and the cave itself begins, but Gladio's been watching it for long enough. Too long. And he’s getting anxious.

“There should’ve been a signal by now,” he growls, low under his breath. “What’s he doing in there?”

“Patience, Gladio.” To his left, Cor’s tone belies his stoic expression. There’s an edge to his voice that mirrors the tension they’re all feeling, a mix of trepidation and concern that the mission isn’t going as planned. 

But it’s not the mission that has Gladio palming the hilt of the knife at his side. Over and over and over, until the leather begins to wear against his skin, and his nerves boil right up to the brim. “Fuck,” he finally snaps, grinding his knuckles into the dirt. “I can’t just sit here and wait this out. I’m going in after him.” 

“Stand down.”

“Sir, with all fucking due respect, Prom needs my help.” 

“He doesn’t. Stand down, that’s an order, Gladio.” 

“ _ But sir--” _

Steel grey flashes as quick and threatening as drawing a blade. The Marshal’s gaze pins him to the spot, voice dropping to a deadly quiet hiss. “Prompto will be fine. If you go in there now, you compromise the mission--”

_ “Fuck the mission!” _

“And you compromise his life!” 

Several of the other hunters turn to regard them through the thick shadows. Their eyes are pleading, urgent:  _ hey, stop fighting, keep it down! _ Gladio bites back what’s left of the frustration building in his throat, because despite himself he knows they’re right. Blowing their cover now won’t help Prompto anymore than waiting around like sitting chocobos. Arguing is a waste of time. 

He sinks back on his heels just as he senses Cor do the same beside him. One second, two, ten pass by, each one crawling slower than the last, yet even with his gaze fixed on the entrance of the cave Gladio can’t focus. Something is very,  _ very  _ wrong.

The air chooses that moment to vibrate with a sharp, unnatural roar. 

_ Damn!  _ All around, the sound of weapons being drawn in answer. Gladio’s knife is no exception, though still he hesitates with the hilt loose in his grip. That roar…. True, it came from the mouth of the cave nest, but it sounded like no daemon he’s ever heard. In fact, it sounded more like…. 

“Gunfire!” someone shouts, but Gladio is already running. The distance falls away beneath his stride, almost as rapid as the beating of his heart against his ribcage. 

_ Prompto _ . 

Shadows swirling around the pitch-black mouth of the cave tell him it’s been a trap from the start.

_ Prom, I’m coming.  _

A shriek, fangs lash out, but his knife slices through them to cut a path ahead. 

_ Hold on. Please, gods, just be alive.  _

More shots are fired, close by the sound of it, so Gladio takes down two more daemons as he turns to follow the reverberations. Another few paces before a bright light flares to life in the otherwise pitch darkness of the cave. It’s a light Gladio knows well, one that illuminates the tunnel long enough to send the shadows skittering - and to silhouette Prompto in the center of it all. 

Although he’s running, his movements are unbalanced, favoring one leg over the other with each step. In his right hand, he’s got his pistol held high over his head, aimed and ready to set off another burst of light as soon as the first one fades. His other arm,  Gladio notices with a pang of panic, is clutched tight to his stomach, where his clothes appear to be soaked in something dark, oozing. 

_ Blood _ .

“Prom! Over here!” he shouts. There’s no time to form a plan. There’s no time for anything but action. “Get behind me!”

Surprise, confusion, and finally relief wash over wide blue eyes. Any questions Prompto has in that moment are set aside in favor of putting Gladio’s knife between him and the swarm in the tunnel. “I-I’m out of ammo, but I’ve got one flare left.” 

Sternly, Gladio nods. “Then make that one count.” 

Just as the shadows clinging to the edge of the light circle prepare to lunge again, Prom’s pistol fires off their last shot. 

* * *

The camp is alive with celebration that night. In place of moonlight, hunters and Glaives alike drink together beneath the glow of outpost flood lamps. They toast to victory, another daemon nest destroyed in the name of protecting what remains of the kingdom’s borders. A small victory, maybe, but what else do they have to celebrate?

Normally, Gladio would at least join in long enough for a few good drinks, a song or two. But this night, he’s got more important things on his mind than raising his glass out of spite. 

Behind him, the door to the caravan swings outward, and two women Gladio recognizes from Monica’s outfit appear on the steps. One nods at him as she strides past; the other stops long enough to shove a medical kit into his hands. “Wraps and bandages need to be changed in the morning. The clear vial is for the pain if he needs it. The white vial is for when the first one isn’t enough. Questions?” 

Blinking, Gladio manages a hurried shake of the head. 

“Good,” the woman continues. “The Marshal said you’d want to take over tonight, but we’ll be stationed by the power grid if you need our help. Keep him off his feet for a few days and he should be alright. Good luck, sir.”

“ _ Sir?” _ Gladio repeats, bemused, as the two women take their leave.  _ That’s  _ something he’s going to have to bring up with Cor before it can spread around camp, but for now it will have to wait. Instead, he takes the steps up to the caravan in a single stride. Lets the door fall shut and turns, chest tight, to the one sight he’s been dreading since getting back to camp: Prompto, bruised and bandaged from his waist to his armpits, stretched out on the worn sofa wearing nothing but his boxers and a sleepy smile. 

“Hey,” he greets, one hand lifting to wave Gladio inside. “Those ladies told me they were sending in a nurse, not a babysitter.” 

“Yeah? Good thing I’m neither.” 

“Heh.” Those blue eyes are warm despite the dark circles beneath them. Prompto’s face is paler than usual, Gladio can tell that much even in the dim light from the lamp on the end table. A combination of blood loss and exertion, most likely, given how far he’d fought his way out of that cave on his own. Precious few others could say they’d survived the same, much less with all their limbs intact. 

“I underestimated you, Prom.” Setting the medical kit on the edge of the sofa, Gladio kneels down and offers a tired smile of his own. “You kicked ass today. How ya feeling?”

“I dunno. More like the ass getting kicked was mine, I guess.” 

“Yeah, a little.” Gladio’s grin widens even further at the noticeable flush that spreads across freckled cheeks. “But you still won. We all did, thanks to you. Sorry for, uh, not putting enough trust in you sooner.” 

For the second time since that morning, Prompto’s reaction takes him completely by surprise. Instead of a joke or an awkward laugh, there’s merely understanding in his tone. Serious, forgiving. “You don’t have to apologize, big guy,” he smiles, and this time Gladio’s ready when that hand reaches for his. “Of everybody out there, you were the one who came rushing in to save me. I mean, sure, I  _ probably _ could’ve fought them off single-handed, but. Yeah. It was nice.” 

“Prompto….”

“It taught me that I need to put more trust in you, too. ‘Cause we’re all we’ve got, y’know. Each other.” 

“Just...you and me.” 

Prompto nods slowly. “You, and me.” 

The fingers curled around his own hand feel warmer than ever. Gladio can’t ignore them now, couldn’t even if he wanted to, not with the way Prompto’s looking at him like there’s no one else in the whole broken world. Like in the darkness of endless night, there’s still something  _ both  _ of them consider to be worth fighting for. 

Words that have cowered too long in the back of Gladio’s throat come tumbling out before he’s even realized he’d speaking them. “Stay with me, Prompto. Please. None of this means anything without you. When I thought…. When I thought I’d lost you out there today, I couldn’t…. I didn’t know how to….”

“I get it,” Prom smiles. “And I wanna stay, too.” 

It’s impossible to tell whose lips close the distance first. But it’s most definitely Gladio, thick arms wrapped around freckled shoulders, who has learned to cling the tightest to the important things in life.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the support, everyone. I know this is kind of a bumpy start coming back, but I appreciate you guys sticking with me while I find my voice again.

**Author's Note:**

> Golly gee whiz, I sure hope Prompto isn't gonna do anything stupid in the next chapter :D


End file.
